


yours, the breakfast club.

by rumpledlinen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledlinen/pseuds/rumpledlinen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which the princess, the criminal, the burnout, the athlete, and the good girl are stuck in detention together. </p><p>(a genderswapped breakfast club au.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	yours, the breakfast club.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an odd little thing; it's a Breakfast Club AU that doesn't really follow the plot of the movie, and it's genderswap. Hopefully it's better than that summary makes it sound, though. :)

1.   
  
louise stares out the window when she gets to school, shaking her head at her father’s warning.   
  
“louise...”    
  
she turns her head to face him, biting her lip. “you sure you can’t get me out of it?” she asks, and her voice is soft, candy-sweet.   
  
a quick shake of the head and her father’s mouth pressed into a thin line is all she gets in return (though she doubts that’s true, thinks her father’s trying to scare her straight - literally). “you know i would if i could, darling.” his words are lies; have always been. (the lies he said to her mother looked like this.)   
  
“can’t or won’t?”    
  
she gets out of the car as quickly as she can, ignoring her father’s shouting after her (ignores the way he’s  only doing what he can and  trying his best and  please, lou, please ).   
  
(it’s almost nice, this way - she’s never stood up to him before but the anger and satisfaction curl deep in her with each step.    
  
she steps inside, and the door clicks shut behind her.)   
  
*   
  
there’s already a girl there when harriet gets inside. she raises an eyebrow.   
  
“who are you?” she asks, as if she doesn’t already know ( louise tomlinson, princess of the school, with lips like sin and a perfect body ).   
  
the girl barely gives her the time of day, which -   
  
“okay,” harriet says, mild, and thinks  fuck you, too .    
  
(she comes here because she can, because on days like today no one gives a fuck about her, and why should they? she’s a fuck-up of the worst kind, a stoner, almost a drop-out. she’s everything parents don’t want their children to become.    
  
here she can look at them and see them fall from grace, can watch the princess do the common people’s time, watch the good girls go bad; only for a day.)   
  
she’s not one for friends, but she likes to think that if she had any, they wouldn’t be like louise, wouldn’t put on a facade for the world around them.   
  
(she turns around and louise looks away, quick.   
  
harry grins with a wink, and leans back to close her eyes.   
  
today’s going to be fun.)   
  
*   
  
“i’m not taking you,” zayn’s mother hisses through her teeth. “find your own goddamn ride.”   
  
and -  all right , she thinks, and “fuck you,” she says.   
  
so she goes.   
  
she walks quickly, anger pounding through her, and the door fucking  slams  shut when she walks into the room.  good , she thinks when two other girls - she vaguely remembers the dark-haired one selling her weed once - look up, surprised.    
  
“morning,” she bites out, and the girl with the diamond earrings (she bets they’re real, too) raises one condescending eyebrow... though there’s something in her eyes, interest carefully masked as revulsion.   
  
she sits down, feeling the anger fade into a sort of acceptance - and when the dealer asks how she is zayn answers in an almost pleasant tone.   
  
“lovely,” she says, turning around, and it’s a lie but she doesn’t care because beneath a mop of curls the girl is fucking stunning. zayn wants to fuck her up, make her bleed - and she turns back around, heart racing, mind flooded with a thousand images she doesn’t want.   
  
fuck , she thinks, and shuts her eyes.   
  
“is it true you blew a teacher?” the girl with the diamond earrings asks, and zayn whips her head around.   
  
“what?”   
  
“word on the street is you sucked his cock to pass.”   
  
and whether it’s  true or not doesn’t fucking matter (as though she gives a shit what they say about her anyway) - but - “who the  fuck  are you?” she asks, anger back in full force.   
  
“louise tomlinson,” and she looks serene.   
  
“mind your own  fucking  business,” she whispers, and louise looks as close to apologetic as zayn’s sure she’ll ever get. “fuck you,” she says, louder now.   
  
she turns back around.   
  
*   
  
“this is  not going to happen again,” niall’s father says, looking at her, sharp. “do you understand me?”   
  
she nods, staring at her hands. “i’m sor -”   
  
“get out,” he says, and unlocks the car. he doesn’t look at her.   
  
she goes inside without another word.   
  
the atmosphere in the library is tense, to say the least - louise tomlinson is there, which,  what , harriet styles (what’s she done, though, she hardly ever comes to school), and zayn malik, who must be the prettiest girl she’s ever seen - but none of them acknowledge the others.    
  
the only one that gives  her  the time of day is harriet and it’s just “tennis practice isn’t in here, sweetie,” but harriet sounds almost kind. she’s smiling, which is comforting. niall smiles back.   
  
“i’m not here for that,” niall says.   
  
harriet raises an eyebrow. “oh?”   
  
she doesn’t say anything, shaking her head.   
  
“well, then. the more the merrier.” harriet pats the seat next to her.   
  
“thanks,” niall says as she sits down, biting her lip.   
  
harriet shrugs. “no problem.” she seems amused by the proceedings, as though there’s some sort of joke niall just isn’t picking up on.   
  
niall breathes out slowly through her nose, and tries not to panic.  you’re okay, you’re all right , she thinks, and breathes in and out again, in and out,  inandout .   
  
her heartbeat returns to normal, slowly but surely, and when the door slams open, niall doesn’t jump.   
  
*   
  
“liam, honey, are you sure you’re okay?”   
  
her mother is looking at her, pseudo-concern in her eyes.   
  
no , liam thinks,  not at all , but what comes out of her mouth is, “yes, of course.”   
  
her mother visibly relaxes, and liam bites her tongue past the hurt, past the inability her mother has to read her. for years she’s been lying to everyone about everything; liam herself isn’t quite sure what’s the truth and what’s not anymore. she can’t fault her mother for that.   
  
her mother is hesitant. “just - this can’t happen again, li, you know -”    
  
liam nods, quick, before she’s through. “i know. it won’t.” her voice sounds long-suffering even to her own ears but her mother just nods, looking relieved.   
  
“good, darling, good,” she says.   
  
liam can’t stand it anymore; the lies, the pretending to be okay when she absolutely isn’t, when she’s keeping another bottle of valium in her pocket just in case.   
  
she leaves with a kiss to her mother’s cheek; a cloud of powder invades her senses.   
  
the room is nearly silent when she walks in, except for a little blonde (liam remembers downcast eyes and a name starting with an  n ) talking animatedly to another girl with dark hair that looks dead behind the eyes.    
  
"hello," she says to the room, feeling supremely stupid, "i'm - liam."   
  
a long-haired girl with pretty eyes and a raised eyebrow snorts. "liam's a boy's name," she drawls, a smoker's voice tinged with mirth, and she leans into the table, sitting up on her chair. "you're the prettiest boy i've ever seen."   
  
liam doesn’t know what to say to that, so she flounders a bit, hand wrapping around the bottle in her pocket. "i," she starts, and she could say a thousand things,  they wanted a boy they didn't want me at her lips.   
  
instead, though, she shrugs and smiles a bit as she takes her seat in front of the girl.   
  
(out of nowhere, she hears it - "i'm zayn, but you can call me z," the whisper comes, and liam looks behind her, surprised.    
  
"liam," she says idiotically, and she turns pink - "but you can call me li." she’s not sure what possessed her to say that last part, and she bites her lip after.   
  
"it rhymes," zayn says, smiling a soft smile that seems private, meant just for her. "z and li. maybe we're meant to  be , eh?"   
  
liam knows she’s fucking with her, but it still makes her smile, a bit. she’s got her mouth open to respond, but then the curly-haired girl speaks up - “oh, fuck, you two, this is sickening - keep it down, please.”   
  
liam flushes again, turning forward. she stares ahead.   
  
she hears the start of a sentence, the scrape of a chair on the floor (a whispered  hey ), but then mr. cowell is walking in, hands behind his back, and the room goes silent.   
  
2.   
  
“good afternoon.” mr. cowell looks at all of them, eyebrow pointedly raised.   
  
liam swallows and makes herself look at him, almost frightened by what she sees.   
  
“your assignment,” and his accent is carefully english, affected but not overly so, “is to write an essay, telling me who you think you are.”   
  
an assignment, at detention? it seems a bit far-fetched but then, liam’s never been in this position, what does she know?   
  
zayn scoffs out a laugh (liam wants to reach out for her but she’s not having her parents hear about anything else, she’s not doing that to her mother, and this guy seems like the kind to get her in trouble for anything). “why the fuck do you care?”   
  
“language,” he says, mild. “you may not respect me but you will act as though you do.”   
  
“fine.” she leans forward; everyone else looks at her so liam does too, turning around to mouth  don’t . zayn looks at her but ignores it. “why on  earth  do you care,  sir ?”   
  
“that’s irrelevant.” he looks at them, again, ill-disguised contempt in his eyes. “you will all write me an essay. five hundred words, no less. i want to know why you’re all here - what makes you think you’re above the rules you see as so unworthy of your time.”   
  
liam’s hand closes around the pills again, and she thinks  no no please don’t make me write this but she will, she’ll scrawl some bullshit that’ll get her credit for this detention and nothing else.   
  
“who are you?” he asks them, and folds his arms.   
  
a fuck-up , she thinks, and shuts her eyes.   
  
*   
  
niall listens, nodding dutifully, but inside -   
  
fuck this , is what storms through her head, plays on repeat, because fuck this “assignment”, fuck all of this, she’s not done anything wrong, not really (she remembers the shouts, remembers - but she didn’t do it, it wasn’t her fault;  not my fault i didn’t i wouldn’t i’m not ) -    
  
mr. cowell’s looking at her. “miss horan?”   
  
she jerks her head up, eyes wide and doe-like. “yes?”   
  
“did you hear me?”   
  
she smiles a bit, nods. “an essay about who we are. yes, yes i did.”   
  
“you looked as though you were off in space - and might i remind you that while this might be  fun for you, that’s not what this is for. you are here to do as i say, and i say to work. is that clear?”   
  
she nods, and she wants to hit him and watch him bleed. (that, she’d own up to.)   
  
“yes, sir,” she says, and if it comes off derisive - well. nobody’s perfect.   
  
next to her, harriet gives an almost sweet giggle, and niall feels as though she’s on top of the fucking world.   
  
*   
  
“fuck this,” zayn says. she folds her arms, shaking her head at him. “fuck this, fuck you.”   
  
simon smiles, a cold smile that barely reaches his lips. “i was merely giving the assignment. do or don’t do it at your own leisure, miss malik.”   
  
she rolls her eyes and tips her head back, breathing out at the ceiling, hard.   
  
simon (mr.  cowell , she thinks with a sort of derision; he’s done nothing to gain her respect) keeps on talking, but she tunes him out, thinking of the pretty young thing with the brown hair and the shy eyes.   
  
liam’s back’s stiff in the chair, and zayn smiles at her, tilting her head to the side.   
  
“something funny, ms. malik?”   
  
she leaves her eyes on liam until she turns around; only then does she answer the question. “no,” she says, and breathes out, a smoker’s breath, short and rasping. “nothing’s funny,  sir .”   
  
liam catches her eye, and zayn smirks a bit until she turns back around.   
  
(man, she’d like to fuck her up - but she wants  more than that, less than that, wants -  wants .)   
  
mr. cowell talks on.   
  
*   
  
harriet’s a little bit stoned.   
  
and - niall’s funny, a really sweet kid.   
  
(she thinks they could be friends, maybe, if niall weren’t  niall and harriet - well. she doesn’t have any limitations on friends, but.    
  
that’s just how it works.)   
  
who am i? she thinks, and lets the question float around her mind a bit, closes her eyes - but mr. cowell doesn’t say a damn thing, barely notices her.    
  
that’s how it works, these days. people look at her and they look but they don’t  see , they never see anything of importance.   
  
not that she’s important. not really.   
  
but.   
  
who am i?   
  
she’s more than they think she is - she’s a joint smoked behind the school, yeah, but she’s also, she’s  also .   
  
(she’s rubbing a friend’s (when she had  friends ) shoulder as she cries into a mug of tea; she’s a warm hand on the steering wheel, needing to get out, to get away -    
  
she’s more.)   
  
mr. cowell doesn’t say a goddamn thing to her.   
  
she breathes.   
  
*   
  
“who are you?” the asshole principal with the bad hair asks louise, asks all of them. “write about it,” he says, and she rolls her eyes, popping her bubblegum.   
  
he looks at her but doesn’t say a word, and she smirks.   
  
oh, fuck  that . it’s not as though he cares. he doesn’t give a fuck about any of them.   
  
(he cares about his job and his money and while she commends him for being able to admit it, still -  still \- she likes to feel respected.)   
  
she tilts her head, rolls her eyes.   
  
who am i?   
  
who the fuck cares?   
  
(and then - and then zayn’s standing up, and she’s going  this is bullshit! and mr. cowell’s leading her out of the room.   
  
and then there’s silence.   
  
louise smiles.)   
  
3.   
  
zayn is hot.   
  
i wonder if she'd let me fuck her , harriet thinks, and she twirls her fingers around together, biting her lower lip.  or maybe she’d fuck me.   
  
like she does all the teachers (but she wouldn’t dare say that out loud, not after pretty little louise got yelled at like she did).   
  
maybe.   
  
she's hot, no telling - but they all are, all of them, even niall, looking for all the world like a scared schoolgirl.   
  
she's never been one to act like this - she's a big supporter of  personality  and all that shit, but sometimes it's nice to just... wonder.   
  
and with zayn gone, things are tense.   
  
*   
  
louise has always known her preference for women.   
  
she’s never questioned it, not even when those around her did; but.  but .   
  
she’s never seen anyone as hot as zayn. she’s never wanted as much as she does.   
  
(though, if she’s being honest with herself, she’d settle for anything, anyone by this point.   
  
sometimes being forever-virginal has its drawbacks.)   
  
she presses her legs together and  wants .   
  
*   
  
the silence is too much.   
  
niall can’t stand it; she has to say something.   
  
“so how’s everyone today?” is what comes out of her mouth, and she kind of hates herself in that moment - but.    
  
the silence stretches, doesn’t break. next to her, harriet ( harry ) pats her knee, shaking her head.   
  
she hopes zayn’s all right. she’s been gone quite some time, now.   
  
niall goes back to her piece of paper, doodling in the margins, and the waiting, the silence, continues.   
  
*   
  
liam writes.   
  
she outlines her paper, because it’s easier, like this, it’s easier to do the work and to not have to think.   
  
who am i , she writes at the top of the paper, and then a list, bullet-pointed, in neat handwriting -  smart, college-bound .   
  
(she writes  suicidal but crosses it out, again and again, until it’s nothing more than a black mark on the page, meaningless.)   
  
she hears niall’s question and she wants to speak up, say something, but she can feel the absence of zayn behind her and any bravery she might have had goes away at that.   
  
she’s never been one for that sort of thing, after all.   
  
and she supposes niall’s sort of cute, in a naive way; she’s cute and wide-eyed and has braces, the absolute picture of innocence.   
  
liam wonders what she had to do to get here - but it’s none of her business, none of her concern.   
  
she’s not  concerned , really. she’s just.   
  
you don’t get saturday detention like this unless you’ve done something awful (unless you get caught with a bottle of vicodin in your pocket, unless someone says  she tried to sell them to me! , unless you have to watch your parents cry and press hands against your cheeks, ask  how could you, aren’t you happy?   
  
and maybe it isn’t a big deal, but she wants to know.   
  
what’s niall done?   
  
*   
  
(zayn follows him to an empty room.   
  
“sit down and  shut up ,” simon says, glaring at her.   
  
zayn sits on the edge of the table, arms crossed, and rolls her eyes. “really? how original of you. should i also have my rights read to me?”   
  
“i’m not playing a game, ms. malik, i -”   
  
“bullshit.”   
  
he pauses, and raises an eyebrow at her. “or everyone can find out about you and mr. corring.”   
  
her mouth falls open a bit. “what?”   
  
“that you sucked his cock for a good grade?” he smirks at her, leaning forward. “oh, yeah, zayn , i know about that.”   
  
“i - i didn’t,” she whispers, shaking her head, “i wouldn’t -”   
  
“and who do you think they’ll believe?” he rolls his eyes at her. “you, who sleeps with people for her own gain - or me, the principal?”   
  
anger roils in her, hot and fast, but she doesn’t let it go, not yet. “you’re - you’re fucking sick.”   
  
“i don’t fuck around.”   
  
she breathes out, slow and steady. “okay,” she whispers, “i’ll be good.”   
  
he half-smirks at her, raising his eyebrow again. “i knew you’d see the light, ms. malik. now, back to your detention.”   
  
she’s near tears when she walks back in (tears, like she’s some fucking little girl), but liam smiles at her, waves a tiny bit, and her chest relaxes the faintest amount.   
  
i didn’t do it , she tells herself, and she wants to tell the world, but - the world just doesn’t care.   
  
4.   
  
simon looks around the room, smirking.    
  
“i’ll be right there,” he says, gesturing to a room across the hall. “don’t do anything that would jeopardize your place in this school,” and he’s talking to all of them but he’s looking at zayn like he wants her to.   
  
and niall’s heard the stories, but zayn’s lips look pinker, now, and she wonders - she wonders if she might have done something.   
  
she’s never put much stock in rumors (too many lies said about her) but - now she’s not so sure.   
  
(she knows about zayn and adam, knows what she did - and she wonders if she should trust people’s words a little bit more when zayn doesn’t move, stares at her desk.)   
  
zayn puts on a fresh coat of lipstick, her right hand shaking just a bit, and niall closes her eyes, wants to hug her and tell her it’s okay, it’s all okay.   
  
(and if she wants that mouth too, blood-red lipstick applied with a shaking hand, going down on her - well. that’s for her to know.)   
  
*   
  
zayn looks so pretty with her bright red lips - but harry’s worried about her, because simon looks smug and she knows enough to know that’s never a good thing.   
  
she smiles at her when their eyes meet. zayn looks down at the table, so different from before, her calm, controlled demeanor.   
  
honey , harry thinks. sympathy pours through her, and she looks away, shaking her head.   
  
*   
  
zayn comes back.   
  
liam gives her a smile and a small wave. zayn looks like she's been through hell and back, and liam gets that more than she's willing to admit (a cold bathroom floor under her knees and a bottle in her hand, and then a laugh, and  caught, caught . )   
  
liam gets a smile back, and her heart sticks in her throat.   
  
she writes  maybe i should have died across the top, in her neat cursive, and this time she doesn’t scratch it out.   
  
(it’s not like anyone gives a fuck, anyway.)   
  
*   
  
harriet’s really pretty.   
  
she looks - hmm. she looks shy, on the outside, but with a personality underneath, something undefined and a little bit wild.   
  
(louise has never found herself so entranced by  wild , but she supposes there’s a first time for everything.)   
  
her mind fills with images she can’t be thinking of here, so -   
  
she pulls out a bottle of candy-pink nail polish and paints her nails, slow and methodic.   
  
when she looks up, harriet’s got an eyebrow raised, just looking at her.   
  
it shouldn’t make her go hot all over, but.   
  
it does.   
  
*   
  
zayn sits behind  li , crosses her arms, watches the girl write across her paper - and she thinks she sees the word  died but she’s not sure, doesn’t know, isn’t going to ask - pretends she doesn’t give a fuck.   
  
(it would be easier, so much easier, if she didn’t.)   
  
simon leaves almost as soon as she gets in there, and she relaxes against the chair, breathing out, hot.   
  
louise is doing her nails, and harriet’s staring (it’s not a good look on her, the almost-pining. she looks insane, and not in the good way) and niall’s just sitting, and liam writes, doesn’t look up, doesn’t move.   
  
zayn huffs out a laugh and props her feet on the table, leaning back.   
  
fuck this .   
  
fuck this.

5\.    
  
the silence is  awful .   
  
(niall spends as much of her life as she can without silence - she talks to people who talk back, and she doesn’t let there be an awkward moment.   
  
it’s easier than having to think, to deal with things. it’s easier to just chatter the time away.)   
  
“so what brings you all here?” she asks, looking down at her hands, and smiles a bit at harriet.   
  
they answer her, all on top of one another -   
  
*   
  
“none of your fucking business,” zayn breathes out, pushes like a puff of smoke. they’re not friends, she’s not going to pretend they are.   
  
she knows it, they all know it, so why is niall acting -   
  
*   
  
“leave her alone, she just wants to talk,” harry snaps, turning around to face her. “come on, you don’t have to be such a  bitch , zayn.”   
  
under the table, niall presses their knees together for a second in a gesture of  thanks (she doesn’t need to, harry gets what she’s trying to do, really) -   
  
*   
  
“guys, stop fighting,” louise says, blowing across her nails, fixing them (and harry’s staring at her - jesus, she wishes there weren’t a table between them).   
  
and she’s never wanted like this, but maybe -   
  
*   
  
liam is the first one to really answer. “let’s talk about something else, then, shall we?” she half-shouts, and slams her hands down on the desk.   
  
it’s enough to make niall jump, and liam frowns. “sorry,” she whispers, but she’s not. not really.   
  
behind her, zayn laughs.    
  
“anyone thirsty?” she asks, standing up, her shirt riding up on her stomach as she stretches. “i’m getting a soda.”   
  
and with that, mr. cowell walks in.    
  
“lunchtime,” he says, and looks at zayn for a long moment (liam feels incredibly uncomfortable in what feels like the middle of this).    
  
and he walks back out.   
  
6.   
  
“so, drinks?”    
  
*   
  
the five of them go together; harriet nods her head at louise to get her to come along, and it seems liam would follow zayn anywhere. there’s no way niall’s staying by herself, so. they travel together but not  together ,  liamandzayn  and  harrietandlouise  and niall.   
  
(she doesn’t mind it, though. it’s more comfortable this way.)   
  
*   
  
“call me harry,” is the first thing harriet says to louise.   
  
her eyes widen a bit but she nods. “and you can call me lou.”   
  
they share a sort of smile at that, bump hips for a second. zayn rolls her eyes at them but she doesn’t say a word, seeming almost happy to be out of that room (and harry understands that need to get out and be free, even if it’s a false sort of freedom).   
  
“so are you high?” lou asks her, first. she looks almost frightened of the possibility.    
  
harry wants to show her what there isn’t to be scared of, but she settles on shrugging.    
  
lou frowns. “ are you?”   
  
“what does it matter?” she keeps her light, flippant tone.   
  
lou’s reply is too-quick. “it doesn’t.”   
  
harry grins, a lazy grin that’s her only answer. “do you care?”   
  
lou swallows. “‘course not.”   
  
but she does, and harry counts that as a sort of victory; lou  cares about her. she smirks, bumps their hips again, and keeps walking.   
  
*   
  
“so you’ve really never had detention before?”    
  
zayn looks actually curious, looking at liam, frowning a bit.   
  
liam nods, feeling a bit on edge. “yeah. i was always too good a kid to get in trouble.” a pause. “how’d you know?”   
  
zayn smirks. “you don’t look like one of us,” is her only answer.   
  
she holds tight to the pills in her pocket, not sure whether that’s an insult or not. (she settles on yes.) “i’m nothing like you.”   
  
“fuck you too, darling.” the words spill off her tongue easily, and liam pretends she’s not hurt by them.   
  
*   
  
they get their drinks and niall’s the only one who talks on the way back, putting energy into her movements. the rest of them are quiet, introspective, and her enthusiasm dies down by the time they get back to the library.   
  
they sit in silence.   
  
7.   
  
liam’s fingers shake when she puts the pen to paper.   
  
you don’t look like one of us runs through her mind, and of course she doesn’t - she’s not one of them.   
  
“you’re all assholes,” she bites out, stupid and selfish in that moment, and she gets up, runs to the stairs to sit at the top of the library.   
  
(it’s always been a haven for her before, but now it feels like a trap. she’s on edge up here, on display.)   
  
one by one they follow her - zayn first, and then niall (never to be alone), lou and harry, trailing behind her.   
  
they sit in a sort of semicircle, quiet.   
  
zayn rolls her eyes, and pulls out a joint. she raises an eyebrow at them as she lights up, as if begging them to call her out.   
  
the rest just look at her, until harry -   
  
“can i have a hit?” the words float off of her tongue, and she smirks at lou as she takes a drag.   
  
*   
  
liam grabs it from harry, without asking.   
  
“i need,” she says, and zayn just nods at her.   
  
she inhales.    
  
she’s never done this before, but she gets how it works, in theory. her fingers shake when she hands it back.   
  
*   
  
lou is the last to try it.   
  
she doesn’t want to; she’s spent a good amount of time talking about  the dangers of drugs and all that, has seen the presentations and the effects.   
  
“come on,” zayn’s saying, “it’ll relax you a bit.” not pressuring, really, but encouraging.   
  
i don’t need to relax! is on the tip of her tongue but maybe she does. lou nods, taking it, and puts it to her lips to breathe in slowly.   
  
when she opens her eyes, she doesn’t feel different but the others look at her as though she is.   
  
she smiles.   
  
*   
  
with the help of zayn, it doesn’t take them all that long to get comfortable with each other, comfortable and more than a little bit giggly.   
  
“here, i want to try something,” zayn says with a laugh, and breathes the smoke in, motioning to niall.    
  
shotgunning , niall thinks in a bit of a daze. zayn’s lips hover close to hers, breathing out.   
  
niall thinks she’d like to kiss her, see what she tastes like (if it’s weed or something more) but then the moment is over. zayn leans back, looking pleased with herself.   
  
her head feels pleasantly fuzzy now. niall looks at zayn, blinking slowly, and she smiles.    
  
*   
  
(liam sits by herself.   
  
i want her to kiss me and she knows it wasn’t a kiss, not really but she wants zayn’s lips pressed against her own. she wants to be the one zayn breathes smoke out at, into.    
  
she wants her all to herself, and that’s a scary (and irrational) thought.   
  
she takes the joint when it’s passed to her and breathes in, all on her own.   
  
niall keeps looking at zayn now, laughing.   
  
liam closes her eyes.)   
  
*   
  
“you want to try that?” harry whispers to lou.   
  
lou looks at her, eyebrow raised (harry thinks how pretty she looks, like that, like she’s innocent). “shotgunning?”   
  
“so you do know what it’s called.”   
  
lou blushes a bit. “well, i’m not that sheltered.”   
  
harry just smiles, and leans in to breathe out against her mouth.   
  
it’s not a kiss, harry reminds herself, but lou presses their lips together for the briefest second when they part.   
  
lou looks at her, under her lashes, and bites her lip.   
  
harry’s grin widens.   
  
*   
  
later, niall tries again.   
  
“so why are you all here?”   
  
liam’s the first to look up, and she makes herself say the words. “i was going to kill myself.”   
  
there’s a bit of silence, and then - “but why did that land you  here ?” zayn asks, looking carefully unaffected.   
  
liam shrugs. “i had pills, someone saw. the principal found out and so i got a lecture, therapy, and a detention.”   
  
“would you really have done it?” this is lou, leaning forward like she needs to hear the answer.   
  
liam grips the bottle, still there, comforting. “absolutely.”   
  
there’s silence for a long while, and then zayn speaks up. “i don’t think it’d be any surprise, why i’m here.”   
  
“why?” liam asks anyway, just to talk, to get rid of this sort of lump in her throat.   
  
zay looks at her, mouth twisted a bit. “i’m a fuck-up. i left a class and so i’m here on a  beautiful saturday.”   
  
“why don’t you just keep down?” lou asks. “you’ve got one more year, why don’t you just try to stay quiet?”   
  
zayn smirks. “why would i want to do that?”   
  
“you wouldn’t have to be here all the time.”   
  
“maybe i like it here.”   
  
“that’s not true.” niall breathes out, lying on her back now. she rolls over to her stomach, and if her top shows a bit of cleavage no one mentions it. “nobody likes it here.”   
  
“better than being at home,” zayn says.   
  
liam looks at her. “really?”   
  
zayn shrugs, looking at her hands.    
  
(it is. more than they’ll ever understand.)   
  
“my parents,” she starts, and pauses. “not the greatest.” she’s still got the bruises on her back.   
  
liam moves close enough to press a hand to her leg, squeeze once. it’s a comfort.    
  
zayn smiles at her.   
  
*   
  
“i didn’t want to play tennis,” niall says out of nowhere.   
  
harry looks at her. “why’d you do it, then?”   
  
“my parents,” she says as she looks at her hands. “they wanted me to be  famous .”   
  
liam perks up now but doesn’t say anything.   
  
niall twists her ring around on her finger. “i didn’t do what they say i did.”   
  
“what’s that?” zayn tilts her head.   
  
“i just - i took the fall for them.” she pauses. “the girls on the team.”   
  
“what’d they do?”   
  
“they - uh.” she smiles. “they beat the hell out of some girl on the other team. but it would have ruined their lives, so...”   
  
zayn smirks. “so you took the blame.”   
  
niall gives a half-shrug. “thought it might dissuade my parents from the tennis.” a pause. “it didn’t.”   
  
liam speaks up. “the pressure’s insane, isn’t it.” it’s not a question.   
  
“yeah.” they share a look, and niall feels less alone, seeing her own expression mirrored back at her.   
  
*   
  
harry lets there be a bit of a silence before she starts talking.   
  
“i don’t need to be here.”   
  
lou raises an eyebrow.   
  
“i mean it. i don’t need to be. i just like being here more than being at home.”   
  
“yeah?” zayn asks.   
  
harry smiles. “yeah.”   
  
“why?”   
  
“well, i’d never meet such  interesting people if not for this, would i?”   
  
zayn laughs. “guess not.”   
  
“and i like school, sometimes. the atmosphere. the building.” a beat. “i don’t really care about much else.”   
  
(it’s not true. she cares more than she’ll ever admit, but.)   
  
lou looks at her, and reaches out, lacing their fingers together.   
  
*   
  
“and what about you?” zayn asks. “time for your sob story, miss louise.”   
  
lou smiles. “i don’t really have one.”   
  
“aw, come on.” harry grins at her, too-wide and fake. “you’re here for a reason. tell us.”   
  
lou breathes out. “i cheated on a test.”   
  
“so?”   
  
“well. i’ve been cheating for a long time. but my father decided this time was the time i was going to learn my lesson. so he didn’t get me out of the detention.”   
  
“how could he do that?” harry’s still holding her hand.   
  
lou smiles. “sweet-talking the teachers is always helpful.” she pauses. “but now that i’m  gay , he’s not on my side so much anymore.”   
  
harry frowns. “that’s bullshit.”   
  
“what?”   
  
“he shouldn’t act like that. because you’re gay.” she shrugs. “i think it’s bullshit to judge people because of that.”   
  
“oh, because you never judge people.” zayn scoffs.   
  
“i didn’t say that. i said it was bullshit to judge based on something that you can’t change, like that.”   
  
“you can change it.” zayn sounds confident. “if you really want to.”   
  
liam gives her a look. “are you serious?”   
  
“yeah -”   
  
“ that’s bullshit. if you’re gay, you’re gay and nothing’s going to -”   
  
“i’m not saying you won’t want to fuck girls, i’m saying -”   
  
“that is what you’re saying!” liam bursts out, louder than she’s been today. she stands up, brushing her knees off, and shakes her head. “i’m sorry,” she whispers, and leaves.   
  
without a word, zayn gets up to follow her.   
  
harry looks at lou, raising an eyebrow. “so you’re gay, then?” she asks, a careful lilt to her voice.   
  
(at that, feeling impossibly lonely, niall gets up to leave. she doesn’t need to be here for this.)   
  
lou smiles. “yeah.”   
  
“that must be tough.”   
  
she shrugs. “can be.”   
  
“can also be fun.”   
  
“oh?”    
  
they’re barely an inch from each other now, and it’s lou that breaks the distance, kisses her, soft.   
  
“yeah,” harry breathes, and then there’s no more talking, only them.   
  
(lou finds out just what harry tastes like.)   
  
*   
  
(zayn stops liam with a hand to her shoulder.   
  
“i’m glad you didn’t kill yourself,” she says, all in a rush.   
  
liam frowns. “even if i’m  gay ?” she bites out.   
  
“i didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.”   
  
“you didn’t have to say it, i know -”   
  
“hey.” zayn reaches out, presses a hand to the side of her face and a kiss to her forehead. “you’re okay, you know that? you’re okay.”   
  
and she is.)   
  
  
8.   
  
by the time harry and lou gather themselves, the others are back, looking calmer now.   
  
they sit at their desks and simon comes in, hands behind his back, to see them all writing.   
  
“ms. malik,” he says, and she looks up, eyes wide. “come with me into my office for a moment?”   
  
*   
  
she follows him, looking down. “yes, sir?” and her voice is clear of any particular emotion.   
  
he smiles at her, leaning against his desk. “i’m just reminding you. if you fuck up -”   
  
“you’ll tell everyone that i’ve had sex with my teachers.” she pauses. “i’m not going to -”   
  
“- i’ll make your life hell,” he tells her instead.   
  
she blinks. “haven’t you already?” she asks, a bit of sarcasm in her voice.   
  
he smirks. “oh, sweetheart. you haven’t seen anything.”   
  
*   
  
the day ends nothing like it began.   
  
lou gives harry a kiss, and whispers “tomorrow?”   
  
harry smiles, and nods. she means it, even if louise doesn’t. she’s not sure what’ll happen, but. she can wait.   
  
*   
  
zayn leaves mr. cowell’s office without a word, not looking at any of them.   
  
liam runs after her, finally catching up just outside the school. “where do you think you’re going?” she asks, and it’s soft.   
  
she kisses her slowly, feeling zayn smile against her lips.   
  
*   
  
niall squeezes her arm when she passes, winking at her.   
  
(in all her silly optimism, niall hopes they can still be friends.   
  
she doubts it, but. she’s rooting for them, for harry and lou. for zayn and liam.)   
  
  
9.   
  
there’s a single letter waiting for mr. cowell when he gets back, in liam’s careful writing.   
  
mr. cowell,   
  
i did my assignment. i wrote the essay.   
  
and i tore it up. because what does it matter, what i say i am? at the end of the day, you’ll still see us as you want to see us - a basket case, a princess, a brain, a criminal, a jock. that’s all you’re going to see, all you’ll accept.   
  
there’s more to us, to all of us, than can be written in an essay or seen in school. and so this is it. this is who we are.    
  
harriet, louise, liam, zayn, and niall - we’re this letter and a thousand different (better) things.   
  
but you’re not going to try to understand that. why should we write it? in all of us is all of these things, and more.   
  
we’re more than you think we are.   
  
yours,   
  
the breakfast club.


End file.
